Wept o'er the flowers her breath did cheer,
As some sad widow o'er her babe deploring,
Wakes its beauty with a tear;
When all did sleep whose weary hearts did borrow
One hour from love and care to rest,
Lo! as I press'd my couch in silent sorrow,
My lover caught me to his breast!
He vow'd he came to save me
From those who would enslave me!
Then kneeling, Kisses stealing,
Endless faith he swore;
But soon I chid him thence,
For had his fond pretence
Obtain'd one favour then,
And he had press'd again,
I fear'd my treacherous heart might grant him more.

_Don. Louisa_. Well, for all this, I would have sent him to plead his
pardon, but that I would not yet awhile have him know of my flight.
And where do you hope to find protection?

_Don. Clara_. The Lady Abbess of the convent of St. Catherine is a
relation and kind friend of mine--I shall be secure with her, and you
had best go thither with me.

_Don. Louisa_. No; I am determined to find Antonio first; and, as I
live, here comes the very man I will employ to seek him for me.

_Don. Clara_. Who is he? he's a strange figure.